The Old Man and the Sea
by rogue-bishop
Summary: Apologies to Hemingway. Jack's last mission as a colonel: have a little chat with Sam Carter's Dad. Set between last and second to last scenes of 'New Order'.


A/N:  Okay.  So, based on the feedback to ToE, I got the idea people wanted to see this.  I had wanted to leave it as a stand-alone but I figured this couldn't hurt.  I had this written/sketched as a back-story, so I took some time and polished and muscled it up.  I hope you enjoy.  As with longer stuff, its more dialogue and less…tactile than "Terms of Engagement."

Colonel Jack O'Neill stepped out onto the glistening white porch, inhaling the warm musty afterglow of a passing summer storm.  The light rainfall and the breeze wafting in off the tidal basin of the Potomac River had damped the oppressive humidity, refreshing the languid city.  Jack noticed that the climbing sun was inclined at just the right angle to illuminate the cityscape, in spite of the rain clouds quickly making their way toward the Atlantic.

            The light shone off the white marble of the porch's colonnades with an otherworldly glow, making the building seem to gleam like a newly laid egg.  The soft breeze eased the burden of wearing full dress blues on a warm, humid June day in Washington, D.C.  Jack took advantage of the quiet moment to slip on his sunglasses and find his psychological bearings.  They wanted to make him a general.  No, more accurately they wanted to give him Stargate Command, and that meant they _had_ to make him a general.  He wasn't thrilled about giving up SG-1, but he had to admit that at this point the idea made sense: medically, practically and personally. While he hadn't exactly thought it would happen (_Not with my mouth anyway_, Jack thought**)**, it had provided him with something he _could_ handle…a tactical opportunity.  He had resigned, after all.  "Colonel?  Your car, sir."

            Jack blinked, bringing himself back to reality…or his little version of it—he still felt like he was ready to have kittens, for cryin' out loud.  He looked down the steps at the Capitol police officer standing near the idling black sedan.  Smirking, he bounced down the steps and eased himself into the car.  With a quick nod, he turned to the officer.  "Thanks."  The officer tugged at his starched white uniform shirt and shot him a quick wrist-wave.  "Sure, sir.  Have a nice day."  Jack eased himself into the car, pulling the door closed.  Jack inhaled the rich, black leather interior and drummed his knuckles on his kneecap.  He tapped the envelope containing his (potential) new orders in his open hand, screwing his mouth to the side, considering his next act.  It was a chess game.  He'd chosen to use a maverick opening.  With the first move made, his next few were dictated if this whole thing was going to make any sense at all.  The young airman in the driver's seat cleared his throat.  "Sir?  Where to?  Andrews?"  Jack slapped the envelope again.  "Um, nope.  Nearest place to rent a decent car."  The airman nodded and the luxury car pulled forward, excising itself from the White House driveway.

            By the time Jack arrived at the rental agency outside of Dulles airport, he'd changed into his civvies.  The air smelt vaguely of Jet-A and the rumble of planes cruising nearby plugged his ears occasionally.  O'Neill dropped his duffel into the trunk of his rented car and slammed the trunk closed.  Jack sauntered over to the driver's side of the white, new-ish luxury sport sedan.  This kind of car wasn't exactly his style, but it had a GPS navigation system and, when in D.C., Jack needed all the help he could get.  The tan leather interior was supple, warm and comfortable and the prospect of a three hour drive down the coast after two days of Pentagon briefings, debriefings, rebriefings, postbriefings and hyperbriefings sounded just peachy to him.

            The drive down to Norfolk was pleasant—damn long, though.  This time of day, traffic wasn't really an issue and it gave him some time to think and figure out what to say. For that, he started to be a little grateful that Hammond was out of D.C. for a few days.  What the heck was the General doing down there anyway?  Whatever the case, Jack tried to enjoy the view of the Chesapeake Bay off to the left as he approached the harbor town.  Virginia _was_ nice this time of year.  Nice, that is, if you're in a car with an air conditioner and normal humidity.  That was one of the nice things about working in Colorado—the winters could be a little crazy but most of the time it was pretty pleasant and beautiful to look at…well, when he was above ground…and…on Earth.  Jack glanced down the GPS system as he pulled off the freeway, checking his position against Hammond's directions: even he could use this thing.  The General's temporary digs seemed to be in an administrative area of the fleet yards, opposite the harbor from the Newport News Shipyards.

            The building was in a secured area.  Jack pulled up to the gatehouse and rolled down his window to flash his ID at the MP.  Warm air wafted into the car but the cooler draft near the sea and the scent of salt spray inspired Jack to leave the window down while he made his way to the correct building.  He was forced to park at the rear of the lot, still full during the workday.  He parked the car and killed the engine.  Stepping out, he peeled at the white button down shirt that had glued itself to his back during the drive.  He brushed down his khakis and hopped off toward the low, three-story glass building across the lot.  The cheap, military grade asphalt was sticky from the heat in a few places on the way in.  It reminded Jack of a bog.  He clipped his military ID to his breast pocket and pushed his way into the cool building.

            A few quick questions, signatures and ID checks later, he had bounded nervously up the stairs to his ex-CO's temporary office.  There was no name plaque or secretary but he knew the General was expecting him.  The hallway was cool and bright with a low ceiling and the faint odor of sheetrock and paint.  Jack paused momentarily, sucking in a deep breath and wondering what in the hell had possessed him. With a quick double rap on the doorframe, he pushed the wood veneer door slightly ajar.  At first, Jack thought the office was deserted.  It was sparsely furnished, with a low wooden desk, Spartan steel and plastic chairs (except for the desk chair which looked like something a two-star general would use).  He poked his head around the door, expecting to wait for Hammond to get back from…wherever it is that he went when he wasn't working.  He noticed, though, that there was a slightly darker blue outline against the wide, corner window overlooking the harbor.  At the Colonel's gentle footfall, it turned revealing a very bald, very exuberant Texan.  "Jack!  Get in here, son!"

            O'Neill and Hammond exchanged massive grins, crossing the room to shake hands.  "Good to see you, sir."  Jack couldn't help letting some teeth show.  Even as far as he was concerned, it had been awhile.  Hammond's eyes lit up and warmed into a satisfied smile.  "Its good to see you up and around, Jack.  I doubt you remember but I was there in the infirmary when they revived you.  I'm only sorry I couldn't be there longer."  Jack pulled back into a smile and nodded slowly.  "Don't worry, general.  Daniel made sure I knew you were there.  But, it is good to see you, sir.  It's been awhile."  George Hammond nodded and tugged at Jack's arm once more before they dropped their hands.  "That it has, Jack."  O'Neill pointed out the window.  "Well, I can't say much for the décor, but the view is definitely an upgrade."  Hammond chuckled softly.  "That it is.  I only wish I had more time to enjoy it.  They keep me pretty busy around here."  He walked over and closed the door.  "Its safe to talk now, Jack."  He gestured at a sad piece of brown furniture that, perhaps in the sixties might have been casually referred to as a 'couch.'  Jack had a seat and Hammond took a vile, plush orange chair opposite him.  "So, General.  What the heck are you doing here?  I didn't think that 'reassigned to Washington' meant 'reassigned within a three hour drive of Washington.'  Not even to the Pentagon nitwits."

            Hammond sighed and shook his head.  He'd really missed the classic, even subdued, O'Neill charm.  "Jack, I'm just down here for a few weeks to get information from some people who specialize in building really big things."  Jack's eyebrows went up playfully.  "Do tell."  Hammond smiled at his former 2IC.  "After the attack from Anubis, the president authorized the design of a new starship.  It's actually supposed to be a template for an entire class of ships of the same design.  Since we've never done something on this scale, we thought we'd ask some people who had."  O'Neill's eyes went as wide as saucers.  "'Scale,' sir?"  Hammond nodded.  "The initial order is for three.  In terms of size they'll be about the same as the _Prometheus_ but with some of the things we've learned from having her.  There'll even be a new coalition military branch to handle space-based defense and exploration."

Jack's eyes narrowed.  "They're kicking the Air Force out of the space program?"  Hammond waved his hands.  "Not at all Jack.  The Air Force will continue to run the Stargate Program in every way.  We just won't be flying the big ships.  Truth be told, we've been double-training those people for a long time. You know as well as I do that will only get you so far.  Once the Starfleet is chartered, some Air Force personnel may go over and you might get a few specialized Starfleet people at the SGC, but that's it, really."  Jack let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.  "Okay.  So…who's in this 'coalition,'" he asked with a hand flourish.  Hammond leant back.  He knew exactly what Jack was driving at.  "Just us, the British and the Russians, for now.  Operational control will stay with a CNC and some admirals picked by the executives of each government.  That should take **some** of the politics out of it."  Hammond crossed his arms and looked squarely at Jack.  He had digested the information and was starting to shift with uncharacteristic nerves.  "So, Jack.  You didn't come all this way to hear what these tin-horn bureaucrats are up to."  It wasn't a question.

Jack shifted in his seat.  "No, sir.  I came to discuss a personal matter."  Jack's eyes met Hammond's and there was a heartbeat-length pause.  "Okay, Jack.  We're off the record."  O'Neill cleared his throat.  "Thank you, sir.  It's about…Carter.  Truth is, I came to talk to you because her Dad's out of touch thanks to the Tok'Ra and their little "I'm a victim" temper tantrum."  Hammond's eyes opened at the statement.  He straightened and couldn't help the massive, self-satisfied grin wending its way across his face.  As far as he knew, this could only be about one thing.  At least, he hoped so.  He knew he should be concerned professionally, but after the past four months, couldn't help but feel ecstatic.  Summoning his innermost strength, he hemmed in the corners of his mouth before he felt confident talking to Jack.  "Well, son, I'm glad you felt like you could come to me.  But, I might just have a surprise for you."  Jack notched his head to the side, curiously, as his feet rocked absently on the scuffed linoleum—desperately trying to avoid that trapped feeling.  "Really, sir?"  Hammond nodded, glancing at the wall clock.  "Jacob's in town, unofficially mending a few fences.  In fact, he should be back from a meeting soon."  Jack double blinked.  Even without Special Forces experience, he would have known he'd been made.  "Well, this is…unexpected."  Hammond's grin broke even further.  There was simply no stopping it, so he gave up and rolled out the proud grin he hadn't used since finding out he would be a grandpa.

They sat quietly conversing, mostly with Hammond bringing Jack up to speed on the comings and goings of life since his stellar performance as a popsicle.  After about twenty minutes, the door clicked and sputtered like a Tupperware bowl being burped.  _Ah, that's how it's soundproofed,_ Jack thought.  In walked General Jacob Carter looking cheerful in full dress uniform.  "Hello, Old Man," Hammond intoned.  Suddenly, Jack felt very small and very under-dressed.  "Hey, George."  Jacob dropped a briefcase onto the floor and tilted his head noticing Jack.  "Jack!  George said you'd be coming around today."  General Carter walked over and took the younger man's hand.  In spite of himself, Jack smiled back; he'd always liked Jacob.  "It's good to see you up and around.  Scared the crap out of us for a while there."  Jack nodded.  "Its good to see you too, sir.  I'm…surprised to see you.  In a good way!"  Jacob's eyebrows went up and he turned his head toward George.  "Well, I managed to sneak away for a day or two.  Probably the last time I'll get away with it for a few months.  I hope I'm not interrupting anything."  George stood and straightened his jacket.  "Actually, Jack wanted to talk to you.  But, he came to see me thinking you would be…out of town."  Jacob released O'Neill's hand and smirked slightly.  His unfocused eyes meant Selmac was probably mentioning something to him.  His smile deepened and his shoulders dropped nonchalantly.  "Sure thing, Jack.  Give me five to get changed; we'll go for a walk.  It's a little warm for Air Force blue today."

At Hammond's suggestion, Jack stood waiting beneath a dark green shade tree outside a dockside café.  The sky was clear and bright blue and the cool sea air was beginning to win the thermal battle with the mid-afternoon sun.  Jack inched across the ground nervously, rocking on his feet sideways.  Heel.  Toe.  Heel.  Toe.  Heel. "Jack."  Jacob trotted over to O'Neill looking downright civilian.  He'd traded his uniform for jeans, Ray-Bans and a light-colored polo shirt.  Jack pushed his own sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and waved over at the older man.  With a gesture, they walked down a pedestrian path along the sea wall in companionable silence for a moment.  Jack enjoyed the sounds and smells of the ocean.  The salt spray was palpable at this distance and he watched as a pair of gulls evaded each other in search of morsels to covet from unsuspecting diners at the café.

Finally, Jack cleared his throat slightly, but the Tok'Ra interrupted him.  "So, this is about Sam?"  Jack nodded, keeping his vision fixed ahead.  "Hammond told you."  Jacob smirked and his eyebrows climbed over the rims of his sunglasses.  "Nope.  You just did."  Jack winced.  Yep; two stars for a reason.  "Okay.  Listen, Jacob.  I'm not exactly good at this sort of thing so, I'll just cut to the chase and then fill in the details."  Jacob nodded with a bemused expression.  "Sure thing, Jack."  They scuffed along for a moment as a warm breath of wind came in off the harbor.   Jack swallowed hard and drew a thin breath.  Wow, this was tough.  "I love her, Jacob."  Jacob stopped and turned to Jack, his expression unreadable.  "How long?"  Jack's eyes pressed closed behind his dark glasses.  "Six years."  Jacob smirked.  "Funny.  I've only known for four.  Must be getting old."

Jacob began walking slowly, not looking behind him.  Jack quickly fell back into step.  "That obvious?"  Jacob looked back over his shoulder as Jack came up behind him.  "Not completely.  But, I am her father."  He smirked dangerously.  "That, and Selmac's pretty quick on these things."  The smirk on his face vanished.  "Mostly, it's only obvious when one of you is hurt."  His head turned to look back ahead.  "So what are you gonna do, Jack?  So you'll be the general of the SGC, she'll be a lightweight colonel commanding SG-1.  That still makes you her CO."  Jack stopped as they passed under a shade tree, putting a hand on the general's shoulder.  "I'll do what I have to do.  We either get a pass, or I walk."  Carter's eyebrows climbed again as his head cocked to the side.  "That simple, huh?  Lemme ask you a question.  Why now?  Why after six years and a promotion?"

Jack pulled the sunglasses from his face slowly and deliberately, wanting Jacob to look him cleanly in the eyes.  Jacob, to his surprise, returned the gesture.  "Yeah, it is that simple.  Two reasons."  Jack held up a finger at each point.  "First:  because I've fallen on my sword enough times now to finally 'get' that life is short.  Enough that Sam and I almost had that…talk twice this past year.  Probably would have the last time if I hadn't stopped her.  Second…"  Jack looked around, observing people nearby.  He stepped in closer and lowered his voice.  "Second: because when I had that ancient crap in my head, it did things to me."  He let his gaze pierce Jacob.  "I could feel her, Jacob.  I could tell how she felt.  I **knew**."  Jacob ran a hand down his face, nodding slowly.  "Why'd you stop her from saying it Jack?  That's a little one-sided, don't you think?"  Jack took a deep breath, looked to the side and exhaled it quickly.  "Wouldn't have been fair to her if I didn't make it."

Jacob nodded.  Both men replaced their glasses and began walking again.  After a few moments, Jacob chuckled.  "Jack, you do realize that Sam is actually dating someone else right now, right?"  Jack felt his heart and gut wrench at the mention.  "Yeah.  I do.  It's just…"  Jack sighed and glanced over at Jacob as a gull swooped down the sea wall.  "Look.  I don't know what will happen.  But, if I get a shot…I want to be ready to take it."  Jacob broke out a smile.  "And this counts as 'ready?'"  Jack stopped, and looked at the man seriously.  "So it's the cliché to end all clichés, but it's tradition.  And, let's face it, when you get right down to it, I'm a pretty traditional guy.  Though, I have been known to drink beer with Chinese food."  Jacob laughed slightly, then nodded and clasped his hands in front of him.  After a moment, he drew in a breath as a newly cooled tease of air drifted in off the ocean.  "What are your intentions toward my daughter, Jack?"

Jack settled his head on his neck in a comfortable position and allowed his legs a more open stance.  "Jacob, I realize that I'm probably not the man you would have picked for her.  I won't even try to pretend I'm perfect or that I'll ever be close.  But, if I can, I'd like to ask Sam to marry me.  And, I'd like to do it with your blessing."  Jacob's jaw ground slightly and his head drooped a fraction.  For a moment, Jack thought he was going to have Selmac tell him to go to hell.  Fortunately, though, Jacob's voice came through.  "Has anything ever happened between you two?"  He brought his head up and looked at O'Neill squarely.  "Nothing, Jacob."  Jacob inhaled slowly.  "Does she know how you feel?"  Jack jerked his head.  "Yeah.  At least, I hope so."  Jacob licked his lips and nodded slowly.  "Okay.  You're right, Jack.  I wouldn't have picked you for Sammie.  Not at first, at least."  He beckoned Jack with a wave of his arm.

Jacob began wandering over toward side of the path nearest the railing of the sea wall.  "You know, it's not as hot here as I remembered.  Must be all that time on Vorash."  Jacob turned and began walking back the way they came.  They turned to avoid a skateboard and began ambling back slower than they had left.  Jack was nervous about the silence and the small-talk comment.  Just as he was turning the topic over in his mind, Jacob chimed in quietly.  "You know, Jack, when I was first blended with Selmac…there was something that bothered me.  Especially as Sam and I—later Mark, too—began to get closer."  Jack turned his head, swinging his arms.  "What's that?"  Jacob stopped, stepped onto the grassy median near the railing and turned to face the open ocean, beyond the harbor.  "That I would outlive my children."

That hit home to Jack.  He thought back to what he told Daniel when they first met; when he'd started to trust the goofball archaeologist: _"No one should have to bury their own child…"_  After a moment and a stiff breeze, Jacob spoke again.  "How do you handle it, Jack?"  Jack sighed and stepped up beside Jacob, who seemed far more human to him than just a short hour earlier.  "You never really get over it.  To tell ya the truth, I don't think I'd want to.  But, these days…I try and remember the good times."  Jacob nodded slowly and adjusted his sunglasses.  "You really think you're ready to do this, Jack?"  There were so many undertones to that single question.  Was Jack ready to face the reality of having a family?  Being married to Sam, having children again, a life?  Jack took a moment to piece his answer together.  "Yeah.  I am, Jacob.  I'm surer about this than anything I've ever known.  I won't try and forget the life I used to have.  It wouldn't be fair to anyone, least of all, my son.  I know Sam would never ask me to.  But…second chances are hard to come by.  I want her in my life, I want to be in hers and I think we could make one heck of a life between us—I want that for both of us and for the rest of my life."

Jacob was silent for a long moment.  He didn't move, didn't fidget but just let the breeze whip around his head and displace the thinning brown hair on the back of his head.  "You know how I deal with it, Jack?"  Original question.  Okay.  "How's that?"  Jacob turned slowly to face Jack, who reciprocated.  Jacob's eyebrows came together and his face appeared to soften.  "I realize that I'll be here for my grandkids and my great-grandkids.  And, when I am finally gone, Selmac will look out for them."  Jacob pulled down his sunglasses slightly so he could look at Jack over the top of the lenses.

"Besides…I'll get to live to see them all happy.  You're a good man, Jack—I've known you long enough to see that clearly.  I know how you kids feel about each other.  My opinion…six years of waiting has been your insurance policy to do this right.  But, if you screw this up…you'd better run—from me _and_ Selmac."  With the last sentence, Jacob had stuck out an accusing finger in O'Neill's direction.  It was amazing how the smaller man could be that intimidating.  Jack blinked, but couldn't conceal the sly grin forming across his face.  "Thanks, Jacob."  Jacob pushed his glasses back up and extended his right hand.  Jack shook it and both men grinned like hyenas.  "I'll reserve the 'welcome to the family' speech until you get around to popping the question."  Jack's grin went sideways.  "Sounds good.  I guess I have to go buy something now."  Jacob grinned.  "How are you going to play this Jack?"  Jack's face tightened slightly, but the smile never left his eyes.  "It's up to her.  I'll just wait and see."


End file.
